


Pillow Talk

by orphan_account



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, One-Sided Relationship, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:09:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4095223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fortress Maximus gets a bit carried away and needs to find a dry-cleaner before his next session with Rung ASAP. </p><p>Includes: unabashed pillow humping and masturbating to queasy fantasies. Enjoy :D</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Talk

Fortress Maximus squeezed his fingers into the cushion and chewed back his grief. Rung had asked him about something he didn’t want to think about and it made his spark churn with regret and loathing he wouldn’t dare project onto anyone but himself…or his pillow.

“I am sorry, Maximus. I shouldn’t have pried” Rung reached forward, his delicate hand, the hand Max had savaged, touched so gently against Maximus’s knee, and yet Max still flinched at the feel of it. “We’ll end here for the day. I don’t want to make you more uncomfortable.”

Fort Max slackened his hold on the pillow, but it remained pressed to his chest. The plush and bulky cushion Rung had purchased subsequent to Maximus resuming his counselling sessions. Rung claimed it was festive and made the room look brighter, but Fort Max realised the cushion was to save Rung’s furniture from Maximus’s heavy hands.  

He looked down and counted his breaths as Rung had taught him to do whenever Maximus felt like a balloon: pumped full of hot air, too filled and stretched and about to float away.

Ending the session now was agreeable. Fortress Maximus thanked Rung for his patience as he hobbled stiffly for the door with fat beads of condensation trickling down his neck

“That’s quite alright, Maximus. And you can keep the cushion if it helps.”  

Fortress Maximus hadn’t realised how solidly he’d been clinging to the pillow’s divine comforts. With Rung’s permission, he held onto it longer and took the article back to his quarters.  

It felt good to squash his head against something soft that night when recharge wasn’t coming easily to him. Fortress Maximus thrashed on the berth, restless despite having suffered many nights of interrupted sleep. He tossed and turned until his nose was buried in the stuffing and there, Fort Max made a discovery.

Rung’s scent was blooming out of the pillow. That familiar, warming presence Rung had was thick. As if Rung had entered the room with Fortress Maximus, and visions of the lithe mech leaning beside him on the berth made Maximus shudder. He hadn’t intended the pillow to become so personal to him, but Fort Max was suddenly intoxicated by feelings he desperately tried to shun whenever he was in a room with Rung. Now he was alone and helpless to resist indulging in torturous fantasies of him and Rung behaving in ways professionals shouldn’t.

Another shudder hit Fortress Maximus, the restlessness in him become more driven, his feet scraping against the berth as he squirmed and he nuzzled his head harder into the plushness that Fort Max’s imagination had turned into Rung’s torso.

A stroke of naughtiness made his insides throb to attention, once he allowed one innocent little fantasy root itself in his processor another came to join, then another. Rampant discharges of arousal fed into Fortress Maximus bodily cravings and soon he was unstoppable, plunging into the dark haze of imagination.

His tongue tentatively stretched past his lips and dabbed the pale fuzz under his chin. He inhaled again, deeply. His tongue was coated in dust and dry, but if it had been the teal glass of Rung’s stomach he’d licked, then Fortress Maximus imagined it to be warm and smooth…like Rung creamy thighs, and his valve… but that would be wet too.

_mmmnuff_

Fortress Maximus shifted, aft poking up, hips rolling in tight, indulgent circles as his interface peeled open for the first time without any manual stimulation.

He wanted Rung to marvel him, plead for him. Rung’s scent was making Maximus’s head buzz, he could only guess at how sweet the mech would taste, or how warm and pliant he’d become under Maximus’s tongue, needfully bucking against Maximus’s face. Rung would have to mentally prepare himself as much as physically in order to readily take Maximus’s spike.

It was a gargantuan form, and fearfully hard between Maximus’s legs. The pillow was manhandled  _down_  chaffing the livid head for Fortress Maximus’s spike, nearly prompting his knees to cave. To avoid making sounds that might disturb the neighbours, Fortress Maximus gritted his teeth. It provided adequate practice for a therapy session that might turn wayward.

Perhaps Rung would like to map out Fortress Maximus’s spike first? Seal his lips around the tip and suckle, or stretch his jaw wide and push as much of Maximus into his mouth as was physically possible until he ached. Fortress Maximus didn’t imagine Rung as a messy eater, but he wouldn’t object to seeing tendrils of drool seeping pass Rung’s lips. It would be a visual pleasure, as would seeing Rung’s small hands working Maximus’s spike desperately, pumping the pre fluid out of his spike and lapping it up in long, greedy licks. Then, when his face was a mess, Rung would  _accidentally_ smear lubricant across his glasses and Fortress Maximus would have to remove them, exposing Rung’s chiselled face: a rare treasure to behold.

“ _M-Max.”_

_“Relax, it’s okay…you’ll adjust.”_

_“But Max!”_

Max would kiss away the sting when he steadily eased inside Rung’s thin frame, and feel every quiver and clutch of Rung’s tiny valve desperately fighting to spread. Max would sooth away each of Rung’s breathy whimpers, and console him in the same way Rung would reassure Max. Ultimately, he’d want to make Rung feel  _good_  beyond his wildest fantasies and it would all be because  _him. His_  turgid spike moving inside of Rung, teasing rough internal traction with his slick girth. Rung knows Maximus might be impatient and want to force a faster pace, but he’s wrong, this is plenty for Fortress Maximus, but nonetheless to sate Max’s abandon while Rung’s insides rearrange to accommodate the tense throbbing mass spearing him open, Rung reaches down and toys with Maximus’s valve, urging Maximus’s restraint to snap and rock Rung until he was whimpering obscene pleas,  _yes, yes_  oh please!  _Overload in me! **Max!**_ Then Maximus would finally let him finish.

There was a runnel the shape of Maximus’s spike worn into the pillow, it filled with transfluid, and the pearly splatter was quickly absorbed into the fibres of the cushion.

“ _Oh slag.”_ Fortress Maximus couldn’t contain the last, guttural and heady sound of release forced from his chest as overload pushed out every last dollop of fluid in him.

Grimacing, he pealed his valve off the soggy patch on pillow. His exterior nub tingled after his endless rutting over the coarse weave of the fabric, which felt so perfect in the moment, but he’d rubbed the abused nub raw.

Fort Max leaned back on his haunches, venting a mist of heat and perspiration, and admired the masterpiece of his debauchery. The poor pillow that had once been plump and jovial was now flattened to a pulp and minus a few sequins. Rung would certainly ask what could have justified such reckless vandalism and Fort Max could lie and say he’d gotten angry. It wouldn’t be the first time after all. The stains sullying the beige weave however, would be less easy to dismiss.

Fortress Maximus shamefully admitted to himself that he’d gotten carried away. As the dregs of Fortress Maximus’s imagination manifested in a comedown montage, Fort Max chewed his lips and offline his optics to picture images of spread legs and flushed cheeks and  _glasses_  more clearly.

His fingers tightened round the pillow again, this time he was more wary as he picked it up and took a sniff. Grimacing, the outcome was as Max had feared, it no longer smelled of Rung, but it reeked of musk and transfluid’s particular tang.

With a dismal expression, Fortress Maximus cast the pillow onto the floor where it wouldn’t tempt him to do unseemly things again. He rolled onto his back, and idly rubbed his fingers through the wetness clinging to the lips of his valve and mused over the subject of dry-cleaners and where to find such a service about the Lost Light.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also guys, I'm doing a Giveaway to pass on a few comics (Last Stand of the Wreckers and other things) if you're interested [ Here is the link :D ](http://bammshee.tumblr.com/post/120219735279/this-is-either-a-really-good-or-really-bad-idea#notes)


End file.
